The chair on the right is obviously hers, although she rarely finds herself there. Do you see the flower petals on the window seat there? She hasn't even cleaned up after them yet; the evening breeze has brushed them aside.
She could be out in the garden or wandering the hillside alone. She has been known to sit in the chair, with her music or her writing notebook, but most certainly not at his side like that. She is careful not to upset him.
She has put herself in a completely different room, one which she can arrange to suit herself. The noises next door, though, they still have their affect upon her. She can still hear the names and she wonders how she can be remarkable when he calls her a "dumbshit".
She has just begun to consider moving her chair. If these chairs were in a painting, she might give it the title, "The Lone Chair," or, "The Missing Chair," or even more likely, "Growing Old Alone As a Mean, Old Man".